Parshas Devarim - The Secret of Hinted Rebuke and Sharing in the Sorrow of the Shechinah

"These are the words that Moshe spoke to all of Israel across the Jordan, in the wilderness, in the Aravah, opposite Suf, between Paran and Tophel, and Lavan, and Chatzeroth, and Di Zahav."

"And Di Zahav," Rashi explains, refers to the sin of the Golden Calf. When Moshe Rabbeinu rebukes the Jewish people for their most terrible and grievous sins, he only speaks in hints. This raises a difficulty: Moshe could have spoken explicitly, so why did he need to speak in hints?

The Komarno Rebbe explains that Moshe Rabbeinu was afraid of awakening harsh judgments against Israel, because one must never give direct rebuke. When we rebuke someone directly, the person can easily become a willful sinner (mezid). Until now, he sinned without paying attention; he didn't realize what was happening to him, he forgot about his sin, and so he was considered an unintentional sinner (shogeg). But if you rebuke a person, reminding him of his sin, and he still does not awaken to repent, he then becomes a willful sinner. Moshe feared that perhaps the Jewish people would not feel the necessary remorse and would not do proper teshuvah (repentance). Therefore, he was afraid to state the rebukes explicitly, and only rebuked them through hints.

Through this, Moshe gained two things. First, if someone did not awaken from the hints—if he didn't remember that he sinned, didn't awaken, and didn't understand the hint—then no harsh judgment would fall upon him (he remains in the category of an unintentional sinner). The second benefit was for those who study Torah with depth and intense focus. There is a general rule that through studying Torah with depth and intense focus, harsh judgments are sweetened. Moshe spoke to them in hints so that here, too, they would merit the sweetening of judgments through delving into and contemplating every single word he spoke.

Because when a person delves deeply and contemplates the hints of the tzaddik, examining every single word to understand what the tzaddik means, this alone sweetens the judgment for him and serves as his very teshuvah (repentance). Consequently, he will merit to awaken and rectify his sins.

The Secret of Hisbodedus: Blaming the Destruction on Myself

To bring Moshiach, Reb Noson says, means sitting on the ground, crying, and mourning over the destruction of the Holy Temple. And what are we mourning over? Over my own sins. I must believe that I am the one destroying the Holy Temple—only me, and no one else besides me. When I do not guard my eyes, I destroy Jerusalem and bring a spirit of impurity into Jerusalem.

When a person practices Hisbodedus, nullifying himself, examining his deeds, and blaming the destruction on himself—only then will the Geulah (Redemption) come! What is Hisbodedus? Hisbodedus is simply one thing: reaching a state of self-nullification, knowing that I am nothing and nonexistent, and ensuring that there is no pride or sense of self-importance within me.

Because a person thinks all day long: "I am the smartest, I am the most clever, the most successful, the most educated." For 24 hours a day, he thinks thoughts of pride about himself, and he even has "proof" that he is the most successful, the luckiest, and the most clever. His mind works constantly, because the brain is infinite. If we were to open up the brain, we would see a million thoughts a second: "I am the most clever, the smartest, the most successful..."

Hisbodedus simply means that we take a full hour to stop this endless stream of thoughts. We need to calm down a little; you are not the "most, most, most..." There are other smart people in the world, there are other successful people in the world, there are other understanding people in the world. Your soul is suffering; it cannot return to its root. It wants to be "nothing." The soul is Divine; it does not want to hear these illusions. Give it a rest for one hour a day!

And the essence of Hisbodedus, Rebbe Nachman says, is at night:

"For then is the main perfection of Hisbodedus, because specifically then one can attain the aforementioned state of self-nullification" (Likutey Moharan 52).

For this, we specifically need the night, the quiet, when no one is really thinking about how to chase after dollars or how to run to the bank, and so on. At an hour when everyone is asleep and slumbering, you should sit, practice Hisbodedus, and work on humility. Only this kind of Hisbodedus cancels all harsh decrees and all judgments.

If, Heaven forbid, one sees a harsh decree during Hisbodedus, it is a sign that I did not practice Hisbodedus correctly. I practiced Hisbodedus to become Moshe Rabbeinu, I practiced Hisbodedus to see Eliyahu HaNavi, to bring Moshiach. These are all wonderful aspirations, but this is not the ultimate purpose of Hisbodedus. In truth, when a person practices Hisbodedus, sits on the ground, and knows—'Every moment I am making mistakes; every thought of mine, every criticism of mine, every judgment of mine, and every perspective of mine, it is all mistakes'—then the complete Geulah (Redemption) will immediately come, speedily in our days.

Leaving Personal Sorrow for the Sorrow of the Shechinah (Divine Presence)

"The sorrow of the Shechinah (Divine Presence)" – A man once came to comfort a widow who had many sons. Each and every son had many terrible troubles, sufferings, and horrific difficulties. He began to comfort each child, one by one, addressing each one's specific troubles... until he finally reached the widow to comfort her. The widow then said to him: "Every single child has his own sorrow, but I, in addition to my own sorrow, suffer the sorrow of them all..." How can one even describe the sorrow of this widow!

This widow is the Shechinah (Divine Presence). What happens is that people completely forget that there is a Shechinah, they forget that there is a collective sorrow. Everyone is consumed with their own sorrows, their own sufferings, their own difficulties... truly terrible difficulties! But the greatest sorrow of all is that we are so sunken in our own personal sorrow that we fail to awaken, elevate ourselves, and reach the root of all things where we caused the damage. We fail to reach the Cause of all causes and the Reason of all reasons, where we stumbled and, through our sins, separated Hashem from the Shechinah.

Usually, everyone is immersed in their own troubles. Even when someone hears about another's troubles, he says "oy, oy," sighs for him a little, helps him a little, comforts him, visits him, and then retreats back into himself. But Tisha B'Av is a special day when we manage to elevate ourselves and shed a tear for the collective. Tisha B'Av is a day when our Sages succeeded—through all the kinos (lamentations) and mourning, along with the tradition of all the Torah leaders of Israel throughout the generations—to instill within the Jewish people the "collective sorrow," the sorrow of the Shechinah, the true destruction, which is the destruction of the entire nation. It is a day to step out of individual sorrow and connect to the collective sorrow.

It is told about Napoleon that he once entered a synagogue on Tisha B'Av and saw an entire congregation sitting, crying, and mourning. He asked them, "Why are you crying? What are you crying about?" They told him, "Over the destruction of our Holy Temple." He asked, "When did this destruction happen?" They answered him, "Two thousand years ago."

He said to them, "If so, I believe that you will be redeemed. I believe that you have a future, and I believe that you have a holy mission in the world. Because if you are capable, as an entire nation, in every place, in all synagogues, across all the corners of the globe, of not forgetting what happened two thousand years ago—and you continue to cry, mourn, and think about it—that means you are connected to your roots. You have hope to reach your ultimate purpose, to reach the rebuilding of your Holy Temple."

And when each person sits, cries, and mourns, connecting to their roots, to the Cause of all causes, to the Reason of all reasons, and sharing in the sorrow of the collective and the sorrow of the Shechinah (Divine Presence), through this they will merit to see the Geulah (Redemption). As it is written:

"Whoever mourns over Jerusalem merits and sees her joy" (Taanis 30b).

The Book of Devarim: The Book of Mussar and Rebuke

"These are the words that Moshe spoke to all of Israel" (Devarim 1:1)

The entire book of Mishneh Torah (the Book of Devarim) seemingly appears superfluous, God forbid—for all its words are a repetition of what was already stated in the previous books. Yet, this book, the Book of Devarim, is no less valuable or holy than the other books of the Torah. Furthermore, there is a definitive halachah: a Torah scroll that is missing or has one extra letter is invalid, because every single letter and crown (tag) in the Torah scroll hints at mounds upon mounds of halachos (Menachos 29b).

If so, what is the purpose of the Book of Devarim, and what makes it unique, given that it merely repeats what was already stated in the previous books? The author of Nesivos HaMussar explains that the essence of the book of Mishneh Torah is rebuke. After all, what is rebuke? It is bringing past knowledge to a person's attention so that it will positively influence their actions in the present and future. This is the entire essence of mussar (ethical teaching): to review what has already been learned and bring it into the heart. Such is the book of Mishneh Torah, which is entirely a book of mussar.

It is no coincidence that the "Holy Jew of Peshischa" would study a few verses from the book of Mishneh Torah—Chumash Devarim—every single day. He said that it served as a mussar book for him, as he felt he was hearing the rebuke directly from Moshe Rabbeinu himself, rather than merely reading a text. The holy Rav, Rabbi Bunim of Peshischa zt"l, advised anyone whose soul yearns to do teshuvah (repentance) to study the Book of Devarim throughout the year, as this will awaken their heart to teshuvah. This concept is hinted at in the word "Eleh" (These)—which forms the acronym for Hashiveinu Avinu L'Torasecha (Bring us back, our Father, to Your Torah) (Bnei Tzion).

Superficial Confession (Lip Service)

"And you answered and said to me, 'We have sinned to Hashem'" (Devarim 1:41)

During the Vidui (confession prayer) of Yom Kippur, we say: "For the sin that we have sinned before You with a confession of the mouth." This is quite puzzling: Is confession a sin? The exact opposite is true, as confession is a crucial step in the process of teshuvah (repentance)! Rather, the emphasis here is on the phrase "with a confession of the mouth"—meaning, a confession that is merely spoken with the lips while the heart remains far from truly confessing...

We find this principle in our Torah portion, Parashas Devarim, where Moshe tells the Jewish people: "And you answered and said to me: We have sinned to Hashem... And Hashem said to me, say to them, do not go up and do not fight, for I am not in your midst." This raises a question: Why wasn't the teshuvah of the Jewish people accepted? Why did Hashem say, "I am not in your midst"? After all, the Children of Israel confessed their sin, as the verse explicitly states: "And you said to me: We have sinned to Hashem"—which is a clear confession.

The Sages explain that their confession was merely lip service. The verse does not simply say, "And you said, 'We have sinned to Hashem.'" Instead, the verse is precise: "And you said to me, 'We have sinned to Hashem.'" They only confessed their sin to me—meaning, only to Moshe Rabbeinu. But Hashem, who knows the innermost thoughts of the heart, knew that this was not a genuine confession stemming from the heart. Had they confessed with all their heart, He certainly would have forgiven them.

Chatzeros and Di Zahav: Concealed Miracles

"And Chatzeros and Di Zahav..."

Following the histalkus (passing away) of the tzaddik, Rabbi Shlomo HaKohen of Radomsk, a certain chassid came to the tzaddik's son and successor, and shared a story about an encounter he had with his father: "I was once in terrible financial distress, so I came before your holy father and poured out my troubles. The tzaddik asked me, 'How do you earn your parnassah (livelihood)?' I replied that my wife goes to the courtyards of the noblemen to sell vegetables and the like, and that is how we survive. The tzaddik then told me, 'It is written in the Torah, Chatzeros (courtyards) and Di Zahav (enough gold)—meaning, if you go to the courtyards, there will be enough gold.'"

"I left the tzaddik feeling confused, wondering what he meant. But miraculously, some time later, my wife found a package among the courtyards containing three hundred gold coins! With that money, I married off my daughter, paid off my debts, and used the remainder to establish a business that provides my livelihood to this very day."

The son replied, "My holy father was a man of wonders. He would conceal his miracles and wonders within jokes and clever sayings, so that people wouldn't realize a miracle was taking place."

Distance Yourself from Falsehood: The Defender of Israel

The tzaddik Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, famously known as the "Defender of Israel," was once returning from the synagogue on the afternoon of Tisha B'Av, after the Shacharis prayer and the recitation of Kinos (lamentations). Suddenly, on one of the city streets, he saw a Jewish man sitting on his balcony, openly eating and enjoying himself in broad daylight.

The tzaddik approached the man and whispered to him, "Reb Yid, it must have somehow slipped your mind that today is Tisha B'Av!"

"Not at all," the man interrupted the Rebbe, still chewing his food.

"Perhaps you are unaware that Tisha B'Av is a fast day decreed by the early prophets?" Rabbi Levi Yitzchak asked again.

"Even when I was a child, they taught me in cheder (Torah school) that the later prophets established a fast on Tisha B'Av as a memorial to the destruction of the Holy Temple."

"I assume, then," the tzaddik continued, "that you are not in good health, and therefore the doctors forbade you from fasting today!"

"If only I could be as healthy every day as I am today!" the man exclaimed with a tone of insolence, casting a mischievous glance at the righteous Rav.

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak turned away from the dining man, raised his tear-filled eyes toward heaven, and cried out with deep emotion: "Master of the Universe! Look down from heaven and see the depths of the trait of truth embedded in the heart of every Jew! Behold this simple Jew—he would rather make himself out to be a transgressor than, God forbid, utter a single word of falsehood..."